


A Curse of a Different Kind

by VerdantSunset



Category: Dark Souls, Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls II
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, One Shot, Short One Shot, Trans, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28169334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantSunset/pseuds/VerdantSunset
Summary: Undead from every land under the sun have come to Drangleic, all with the hope of breaking the curse. But that's not what she's here for.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	A Curse of a Different Kind

The water of the lake was still. Still enough that I’d believe in a second that nothing lived in it, not that I’d be able to see anything below the water anyways. The surface of it is pitch black in the twilight, even with the light of the full moon. I look across the waters to my destination and as I make my way to the shore I find a small dock along with a weathered old rowboat, as if it were placed there with the expectation that I would arrive to use it. When I set myself in the boat I see it even has a small hook above the bow, perfect for the lantern I carry. The boat holds a single oar that has begun to splinter and rot but I pick it up anyways. It’ll do. 

As I paddle, I can see ripples from the boat move throughout the whole of the lake. That old crone told me this is where I would find what I wanted. But it’s like there’s nothing here. I take a deep breath to steady my heartbeat. There’s no reason to panic yet. I should at least land on the island she specified before I start worrying. 

Before long I am upon it. Island perhaps isn’t the best term. It’s more of an old stone building with much of the original structure now lost. Much of the walls that made up the structure are gone but the arch that marked its entrance still stands. The boat makes a hollow thud as I dock against the stone landing. I step through the arch into a courtyard. 

If I wasn’t already undead, the sheer multitude of bones scattered along the dirt ground would be cause for concern. But death and, by extension, danger have lost all meaning. In the center of the clearing is a twisted, gnarled tree of white bark and across its surface lay hundreds of insects, I strain to remember the name… ‘fireflies.’ That’s what they’re called, for the glow that they give off. 

Well this is the place, the woman’s directions were clear, an island housing a white tree in the middle of this lake. But when I asked her she never gave instructions on what to do when I got here. Or maybe I forgot, damn curse. I am interrupted from my thoughts by a buzzing as I see the fireflies begin to fly off of the tree one by one until they form a swarm, as they spiral around the courtyard. Behind me I hear the water of the lake being churned into a frenzy. Looking back I can see a whirlpool has formed in the once still lake. A sharp crack rings out as my boat is pulled down, being fractured into splinters. As I step back onto the landing I can see the full extent of the whirlpool. It’s far wider and deeper than should be possible for a lake this size, and as I gaze into it’s maw I can see that it extends far below where the floor of the lake would be. 

The old woman warned that where I would be going, I would be able to come back from. Not that I have anything to go back to. Besides, the worst that this thing could do is kill me. I chuckle despite myself, as if I’d stay dead. With that thought in mind, I steel myself for what’s to come and I step off the landing. 

… 

I wake up on a cold, smooth floor of stone and as I groggily push myself onto my feet I can see it is a circular platform barely ten feet across with a row of pillars on and around its edge. I am in a cavern, a large one. The ceiling of which is so high up I can’t see it. I only see a fissure, large enough to be comparable to a small canyon in the ceiling of the cave, from the fissure is a silver light. Like bright moonlight it illuminates the cavern. I follow a narrow path leading from where I awakened. Walls of rough hewn stone are on either side of me as I continue forward. Despite everything, I can see that grass and other foliage grow in this cave. They apparently get enough sunlight. The path ends at a bridge which leads to a cottage, it looks like the one I met that old woman at. Like it had the same designer. Although this one is considerably bigger, the only other difference is that this one seems to have been built into a tree. I make my way across the rope bridge and reach a shaky hand towards the door; I can hear voices inside. 

I open the door and step into the room. There is a small table in the center where two old women in red robes have halted their conversation to gaze blankly at their unannounced visitor. Another woman in the same robes sits near the roaring fireplace. Among them is a younger woman, hardly any older than I am, she stands holding a broom. Perhaps she’s a caretaker. One woman at the table lets out a raspy chuckle, “There seems to be an undead in our midst.” She laughed at that, as if she had made some commonly said joke. “Why this one looks practically hollow already.”

For a moment I feel the familiar burn of anger rising in my chest, but I hold my tongue. Whatever they say or think of me is unimportant. As soon as I get what I want I can leave. I choose my words carefully. “I’m looking for something, and I was told I would be able to find it here.” I say remembering the words of the old woman who sent me here.

The first woman responds, “If you’re looking to break the curse you’ve come to the right place,” she chuckles to herself as if remembering an old joke. “Not much good it’ll do you I’m afraid. Countless others have come through that door seeking the same thing.”

The other woman at the table speaks next. “You’ll go hollow like all the rest.”

“Oh, you never know.” The first woman replies with sarcasm, before all three women cackle in unison. My face burns in embarrassment and I stay silent, knowing my temper I don’t dare to speak now. 

After they finish laughing the first one speaks again. “What is your name?”

At the question I feel a stinging sensation in my chest, it’s like I’ve come to expect pain after I answer. “I…” I hesitate, “My name is…”

I’m interrupted by the second woman, “Hmm, you don’t look too hollow. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten your name.”

“It’s not that… I just…” I hesitate to find the words. “I’d prefer not to say.” I feel shame from being upset from a simple question, but I push the feeling away. My secrets are my own.

The first woman seems satisfied enough with the answer. “Very well,” she says reaching into the sleeve of her robe, “Consider this a reward for your honesty.” As she pulls the hand out I can see that she’s gripping a small bundle of wooden roots. She hands the bundle to me. It’s small enough to fit in the palm, but I feel warmth emitting from it. It looks like it’s made of hardened roots, like they naturally grew to form the shape. It looks like something a child would make, though empty on the inside and rudimentary in shape, it looks… human? “It’s a human effigy,” she explains, seeing my confusion. I look upon the thing in my hand, it has begun to assume a more defined shape, that of a human. It’s almost finished in its transformation when I realize I’m looking at myself, exactly as I’ve always been.

I drop the effigy to the ground as if it had stung me. “You can take it back.” I say, “I don’t want to look upon that thing. Ever!” Coming here was a mistake, my anger is gone only to be replaced by shame, sorrow, and regret. I realize I’ve backed into the door to the cottage and I turn and grab the handle to leave. 

“Wait!” I hear behind me.

With some reluctance I turn to face the speaker. It’s that first woman, who now stands with both hands on the table. For the first time since I’ve arrived she seems to not have anything to say. With careful steps she walks to where I dropped the effigy. It has reverted to its original form. Gingerly, she picks it up before looking at me. 

“I understand now what you truly want.” She says, “Fortunately for you it’s not far.” She points to a door near the fireplace. “You’ll find what you desire in the cave beyond that door. After you have what you want, I think you’ll be ready for this.” She says, holding up the effigy. 

Even through the hood and the rags covering my face, I feel as if she can see my tears. “Thank you.”

… 

I search the cavern for what feels like days. I take the many branching paths exploring as much of its interior as possible. Lacking weapons I scrounge what I can from the hollows that attempt to halt my progress. They are easy enough to kill without a weapon, they barely defend themselves. After enough time I scavenge a decent dagger and a shortbow with half a dozen arrows. It’s shoddy equipment to be sure, but it’ll do. For after all my searching, I found it. What I realized swiftly after I found it, was that it was guarded. 

A lone path ends upon a beach, the only one in this cavern. A small island of sand surrounded by the dark waters. Upon the beach is a stone coffin. Whatever’s inside must be what I’m looking for. On the beach are footprints larger than my torso and as I gaze upon the beach from a safe distance I can see the ones making them. I’d describe them as cyclops or ogres. One-eyed giants twelve feet tall and half as wide. When I first tried to make a break for the coffin I had the pleasure of discovering what it’s like to be crushed and eaten to death. This time’ll be different though. The arrows I have are simply wooden ones ending not in a heavy broadhead of iron but are merely sharpened at the end. I wouldn’t be able to pierce an ogre’s skin with them. The same can’t be said for it’s eye. 

I only have six shots to blind both of them and with less than a hundred feet between me and the beach, I’ll need to be quick. I pull the arrows from the small quiver slung over my back before placing them in my right boot where they’ll be easier to draw. I knock an arrow onto the bowstring. The closest ogre hasn’t seen me, I need to draw him to me. My heart is pounding in my chest as I raise two fingers to my mouth and I let out a piercing whistle. The ogre immediately fixes its one dinner plate sized eye onto me and in an instant I draw and loose the arrow I have prepared. Before I even see it hit I knock another arrow and fire again. The ogre reactively closed its eye when I loosed the first arrow, it didn’t see me fire the second one, however. I don’t see the arrow enter. But I hear the roar of the creature as it stumbles, falling to the turf of the path with only thirty feet between me and it. With no time I level my bow towards the one close behind it. 

The second one has learned from its twin’s mistake and to my dismay I see it approaching me slowly while keeping a hand in front of its eye. I loose an arrow only for it to bounce harmlessly off of the tough skin of the ogre’s hand. It’s almost upon me now and I begin to back up only to trip and fall backwards. I scramble to my feet as I’m backed into a wall. It’s only twenty feet away. In desperation I aim and draw again searching for an opening, and I see it. I lower my aim and fire into the creature's mouth. Reacting to the sudden, unexpected pain the ogre reels back clamping both hands over its now bleeding maw. Black blood falls to the surf. I have the opening I need. I fire an arrow and another and another into the creature's eye until it is still and it falls backwards onto the other.

I drop the now useless bow and I draw my knife. I want to be thorough and make sure they’re dead. Without any care for the blood and viscera that will naturally follow I plunge my knife into the skull of the second one before I do the same to the first. The knife and my hand are painted black with blood. I step past the bodies onto the beach. With my knife in hand I push against the stone lid of the coffin opening it. 

There’s nothing inside. 

“What!?” I yell involuntarily. “Where is it? There’s got to be something!”

I hear something behind me, like the sound of a storm. I turn to see a knight rising from the ground, being summoned by some dark magic as it rises from a black pool of energy on the sand. I turn back to the coffin. I didn’t come this far just to die and come back the same. With no other choice I jump into the coffin and pull the lid closed just as steel scrapes across it. 

… 

I wake up feeling an odd sort of pain throughout my body. Like my skin has been thorough scrubbed with a rather rough brush. I reach above my to push the lid aside and even the dim light of the cavern feels blinding after being in the coffin. As I push myself into a sitting position I can tell just how weak I feel. The feeling reminds me of when I was human, how I would feel after overcoming a strong illness or healing from an injury. But I look to my hands and I see the familiar rotten flesh of an undead. It’s odd, however, my hands look off in some way. A little narrower, smaller. Did I lose weight?

Regardless, I’ve explored the cavern as much as I could. I should ask the women in the cottage if what I need is somewhere else, like in the water. As I make my way back to the cottage, the thought doesn’t leave my mind that something is off. My mind feels a little fuzzy and I can barely remember anything before I closed the lid of the coffin. The thought hits me that the coffin might have something to do with the curse, but I could care less. 

Before long I am back at the door of the cottage. With a feeling of failure I push it open and step inside. Despite it feeling like days since I left, nothing has changed. As if no time has passed for the women inside. The woman who handed me the effigy is the first to notice my arrival. She eyes the dried blood coating my hand and the front of my clothes. “I see you ran into trouble.”

I give a disappointed sigh, “I didn’t find it. I came back to ask if maybe you were mistaken and what I’m looking for is really somewhere else.”

She chuckles with an air of smugness, “No, I don’t think so.”

“So I really did fail. It’s out there and I just couldn’t find it.” I admit, out loud.

“Why don’t you see for yourself.” The woman says, waving a hand to the center of the table where the effigy from before is waiting for me. 

I feel as if she knows something I don’t, but with much hesitation I step to the table and pick up the effigy. I look to the woman expectantly, and she motions for me to focus on the effigy. 

I look upon the gnarled, empty thing as it begins its transformation anew. I see it assume the basic shape of a human before developing more defined features. This time, however, it looks different. It’s subtle at first, narrower shoulders, smaller frame, the features come in softer and less rigid. The effigy in my hand looks like it’s of somebody else. Almost by instinct as I see the transformation conclude I hold the effigy to my chest and it disappears in a flash of light. 

I feel human for the first time in months. Looking down at my empty hands I see the skin of a human, not the rotten flesh I had become accustomed to. That effigy, I know what it means, but I don’t want to hope. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn to see the woman who had given me the effigy. “Why don’t you use that mirror we have on the wall over there,” she says pointing to the far side of the room. She places a hand on my back and gently ushers me towards it. I see my reflection, that of the disheveled, undead who covers their face so the world doesn’t have to see. With shaking hands and closed eyes I reach to remove the rags covering my face. When my face is bare I open them again.

On the mirror’s surface I see the old woman and a stranger. A stranger with my same brown hair, the same green eyes, the same scar over the throat. She’s beautiful and she’s crying tears of joy. 

“That’s right,” the old woman says, “It’s you.”


End file.
